


White Out

by dragongummy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Tony, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony centric, anxiety attack, broken tony, more broken Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongummy/pseuds/dragongummy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has hit the peak of his endurance, and the walls he’s built around himself have started to fall. Steve comes to make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> White out* - The concept of erasing what is in the past and what has been done and replacing it with something better, something correct.

Steve knows. He knows that all he is to Tony is a quick fuck. Any easy fix to his constant horniness. Steve knows that Tony doesn’t  _do_ intimate. It makes him uncomfortable. Because Steve fucking  _knows_  that behind his mask of cockiness and arrogance lies the self loathing that Tony has tried his whole life to bury. To let no one else see but him when he looks at himself in the mirror with the same disgust he always does.

He looks at his Iron Man suit, knows it's the suit that everyone loves, that indeed _it was the suit that made the man_. Tony was a genius after all. He knows the public sees him as an immature boy who doesn't deserve to wear his own creation and Tony also knows he should have never made it. That it’s only stained his body with more sex and drugs and alcohol. He used to not think this way, after all, he was Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist. He worked too long and too hard to care about what he did and what others thought of it. He used to like to have fun. Used to.

Ever since Pepper left him five months ago, ever since she told him (admittedly in the heat of the moment) that he was a selfish, arrogant, small man with a lot of cars. Ever since she told him she never loved him, and never could.

“No one will love you, Tony. You can only love yourself. Luckily your ego is big enough that that’s the only love you’ll ever need or get.” He saw the hint of sadness in her eyes as she was saying it, knew she pitied him. But that didn't stop her from walking out the door. He thought she _loved_ him. Which was the biggest hit of all. That she could just walk away and not come back. Ever since then, he stopped having fun. He still went to the parties. Still got drunk and came home with women _and_  men of different ages. But he had never truly smiled since then. 

So he and Steve started fucking. Steve was never against it, just shocked at his first proposition. Tony had asked out of the blue, kind of blurted it out, actually, when he was piss drunk on a Monday morning (it had gotten that bad). He didn’t say no. No one ever said no to Tony Stark.

They fucked wherever and whenever they could, hard and fast. Just how Tony wanted it. He wouldn’t be  _able_  to do it any other way. Not with the way he was now.

So when Steve pounds on his front door one night in nothing but sweats and pushes him onto the bed, Tony expects nothing more than a random, quick fuck.

But that never happens. He lies Tony down and takes his time. Too much time, and Tony complains and makes snide remarks to piss Steve off, but it doesn’t work this time (though he hates it when Tony calls him a 'Capsicle'). Instead, he just lifts his gaze from Tony’s chest with a sad look in his eyes.

“Don’t you look at me like that,” Tony hisses. He can't take another person looking at him like that. Not anymore.  _Only I’m allowed to look at myself like that._

“Stop, Tony.” He just says. “I can’t watch you self destruct yourself anymore. I can’t watch you blow holes into yourself and watch you fall apart.” Tony starts to sit up on his elbows, rage boiling inside him.

Steve pushes him back down. The look is still there. Maybe it’s concealed a bit better, but Tony can still see it. He averts his eyes.

“You’re not who I thought you were, Tony.” His voice drops down to a whisper as he looks into Tony’s face with wonder. _I'm not who anyone has wanted me to be._ Steve places his palm over the arc reactor and Tony's hand immediately grips Steve's wrist in a warning.

“You’re beautiful.” Tony almost flinches at the word, surprised, because it's honestly not what he'd expected to hear. But he’s heard those words from so many different mouths from so many one night stands that he manages to just keep his gaze on the corner of the room. His teeth grit.

“So…perfectly…humanly flawed and beautiful. Not who I thought you were at all...” Tony can barely hear him now, he's almost mumbling to himself, but he's still loud enough that Steve knows he can hear. The sadness creeping back into his voice, “You…know that, right, Tony? That you're perfect?”

Tony doesn’t need to answer. Steve knows. He can and will always be able to see right through him. Tony will always see himself as damaged. Because that’s what he was. A destructive, damaged diva. As Agent Barton once called him.

But Steve knows better than that. So this night, they make love. Steve fucks the drunk out of him in slow, deep thrusts. Thrusts that don’t speed up even as Tony’s back bows off the bed when Steve finally finds the spot inside him that makes his thighs shake and his breath catch. Steve just uses his hands to part Tony's thighs wider all the while staring into his face. Tony can’t hold his gaze for more than a few moments, for the desire in it made his face burn.

Not even Pepper could ever look at him like that. So Steve just rocks into him. Humming after a while in pleasure, but never picking up his pace. Tony is fully erect and leaking, his palms pressed flat against the headboard of the bed for some kind of leverage. Just fucking _something_  to be able to move his hips. But Steve follows his movements, won’t let him speed things up. It burns up his neck and down his chest from the pressure of it all. Tony has never had sex like this before. Sex that makes his eyes roll back in his head and his body thrum with lust and heat. He's never been trapped under another body like Steve's, who won't let him get away, who _knows_ that Tony can't because he's not as strong. That he just has to take it. And love it. Because Steve makes sure he enjoys it, keeps him on edge but not over the cliff. Watches Tony closely to have him riding that thin line of constant burning pleasure that has him clawing at Steve's sides.

Tony doesn’t know how long it’s been. 30 minutes. An hour. But he finally feels his orgasm building to its peak in his belly. It’s already intense, his skin breaking out in goose bumps and his breathes have become short, quick gasps of air.

Steve presses his hand to Tony’s lower belly, just so he can feel the muscles stuttering. Just so he can feel Tony lose control.

“That’s it, Tony. Come on. Show me.” Tony tries to control himself, tries to think about anything else but the way his body is just moving of its own will, his muscles jumping.  The way he has never experienced anything quite like this, out of his head and body. He can hear his heart pumping hard in his ears and his vision is blurring.

But Steve knows. He’s never been treated with this kind of attention; he’s never let anyone.

Tony is jolted out of his headspace when Steve places one hand over his arc reactor, the other on his neck. It’s too close. It’s become too loving, it’s too much adoration and Tony has to move his head to the side.

Then Steve pulls out so suddenly that it sends a shock up Tony’s spine. And then he’s being flipped over onto his stomach, his legs spread, followed by his cheeks. It's happening so quickly that Tony doesn't even realize what's happening.

And Steve is there. Tongue dipping into him, too far in, too deep. Tony never lets people in that deep, never lets someone see him inside. It’s too personal, too intimate. And in the end, he’s the one that gets hurt. He's learned his lesson.

But the tongue is there, and Tony’s back is arching. He’s twisting on the bed; hands reaching back to do something.  _Anything_. Push Steve away. Pull him closer.  _Steve_  is there, not Pepper, hands forcibly holding his thighs wider apart as he doesn’t take his eyes away from Tony’s face in the mirror above the headboard (Tony liked watching himself in bed, so what?). Tony’s hands are gripping the sheets, and he thinks he hears them tear, but who cares. A final thrust of Steve’s tongue, arms pulling him closer,  _onto_  his tongue. And Tony’s body stiffens.

_White out._

He’s coming, so intensely that he shouts out without restraint. The tongue is still moving against him inside and Steve grips the wrist of his hand that he doesn't even realize is pushing against Steve's head. He hears himself whimper and his body is wracked with shudders. He shouts out again when Steve reaches a hand between his shaking thighs and starts jerking him off in time with the pulses of pleasure running through his body. Steve rides him through his orgasm, which seemingly lasts forever until he has to still Steve’s hand when the pleasure starts to roll into pain on his now oversensitive cock.

Steve’s hand then goes to rest on Tony’s lower stomach, waiting for him to catch his breathe. Tony doesn’t even know if he can move. He’s frozen on his knees with his ass in the air and his head plastered to the pillows. One of his hands is on the headboard while the other is lightly resting on top of Steve’s, shaking. Steve kneads his ass gently with his free hand, placing kisses on his spine before resting his cheek against the back of Tony's thigh.

Steve eventually rolls them both over, holds Tony around the waist. They’re spooning, Tony doesn’t like it, but he lets himself smile as he starts to drift into sleep.

“Steve…” He manages to say. But that’s all. He wants to say thank you. Wants to ask him why. Why now? How long? Steve just starts to lazily suck at his neck, humming again.

But he mostly wants to say, me too. Yes, Steve. Me too.

“I know,” he hears Steve whisper. Steve knows. He’s always known.


	2. Sounds of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony awakens at 2am from a particularly vivid nightmare from that day in New York and it leads to an anxiety attack. He doesn't count on Steve being there. Or Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may contain character SPOILERS for Iron Man 3 and a plot spoiler for The Avengers. Heads up. I've had anxiety attacks before, they were done very well in the movie to show the ugliness and sense of out of control you feel. You almost become someone else when the fear takes over. This situation is slightly based off an experience I had of my own, and Iron Man 3 was a character GEM for me because I love Tony Stark so much. A one shot again. Rated M. Enjoy!
> 
> Partially inspired by this gif: http://24.media.tumblr.com/e6afe82959192abcd3d5734a50c6c733/tumblr_mmjt2ngccB1qlhhx4o1_250.gif

_Call failed. Pepper's face, will it be the last thing he sees? Jarvis voice cuts out, and Tony feels eerily alone. No chatter from his AI, just silence. The lights in the suit dim and flicker before cutting off completely and Tony doesn't ever remembering feeling this alone. Not even drinking himself into the hospital or being pushed aside by his father. Tony glances up into the silence of space, sees the monsters and the mother ship in the distance. Which is almost funny because aliens don't exist and mother ships don't exist and other dimensions don't exist. But here he is._

_There's another tick of bizarre quiet._

_Then light. A rumble that makes his suit rattle, makes his_ teeth _rattle in his mouth. He can't blink. In this moment he's too enraptured by the sick feeling of it all and his eyes are focused on the blast. Tony has seen death, has seen mass death even. But never like this. Never so close to it but so far away from everything else and it stops his heart for a moment._

I'm going to die.  _He wishes Natasha would just close the portal already. Would just put him out of his misery because seeing it still open gives him that glimmer of hope. That open ended question that shouldn't be answered that maybe, just maybe, he has a chance to slip through. But he won't. He's in deep space and damn it all because Tony never designed his suit to withstand vaccuum pressure in alien dimensions. Tony's breath catches in his throat and he feels all the air leave his helmet. He closes his eyes, feels his heart slow down. It's surreal and it's happening; he's feeling himself dying. At least it was for something, at least it showed his last stand as something for others and not just for him because that's_ not  _who he is damnit but no one would ever know. Maybe this was a fluke in billionaire Tony Stark's plan to become front page news even in death--_

_His eyes are squeezed tight, there's no more air, nothing left but his last thoughts which are ironically filled with regret and mistakes..._

_And he feels himself falling. And falling. And he'd die this way, falling into nothing, amounting to nothing, getting nowhere._

_And he falls still, and everything goes dark._

_  
_Tony jerks awake with his heart racing and in a wet pile of sheets. The helmet is gone, it was only a dream, but he feels no air. As if he's still in deep abyss. And he pulls at his shirt with shaking hands and tugs it off. Cool air hits his skin and he falls to his knees. He's frantically blinking back sweat from his lashes and trying to get his footing by using the wall as leverage. It works thankfully and Tony tries to control his breathing as he makes his way to the door. His vision is starting to clear a bit but the fear is locked in every step he takes, because every time he looks down to steady himself, he sees the tiles falling away from around his feet and he's falling again. Tony swallows against the lump in his throat and the nausea sets in. For a strange moment Tony thinks he could be having a heart attack, but he isn't even 50 and he does palates and yoga and martial arts for fuck's sake.

He needs to get to the kitchen. He can crack open all the windows, Jarvis can talk him down.

"Sir?" Speak of the devil. "Sir, you're vitals are extremely stressed. Shall I call someone?" 

"Stressed," Tony breathes the word in a rush and it's almost humerous but this time it's not. It's so far not and everything is wrong. He doesn't feel safe, his steady mechanic hands are shaking and his false heart is whirling and buzzing to a point where he can almost feel it beating. He's in the kitchen, he sees the bar but it's blurring.

"Sir, you are safe. You will be okay, if you could-" A pause and Tony needs that voice back before this gets too bad. Because it was getting worse. "Sir, I'm reading two lifeforms heading this way."

And that was truly the last thing he needed because that meant his security was breached, which meant that someone was in the house, in _his_ house. It meant that they could get to him, that they knew what he feared, and if they could get to him at his home then nowhere was safe and--

He falls against the bar and he sucks in air as he crumples to the ground. Everything is blurs of black and blue, some areas illuminated more by lights from his tower outside. Tony reaches out for something to hold onto but it doesn't take a rocket scientist for him to know that nothing will be there. And he's falling again and the terror grips him and he calls out.

For Jarvis, for Pepper, for Howard. He doesn't know. Anyone who was listening, anyone who cared...

Someone grabs his bare shoulder and the surprise jolts his body stiff.

"Tony." It's muffled and Tony sees a face, two faces actually. And Tony is a genius and he doesn't forget a lot of stuff but he can't remember who the faces belong to or if the voices match. He lashes out, swings out and hopes his fists connect with something solid. He scoots away as fast as he can until his back hits a cold metal and for an instant he can catch his breath because maybe it's his suit. Maybe someone has come after all.

"Tony!" Bruce shakes him. Bruce? Wait, what?

"Brucey," is all that comes out and Bruce's eyes are wild and open as he's watching Tony slowly recognize him. Someone else leans down and it's Steve.

"Cap," he supplies for the other face and Steve nods slowly. Tony's heart is slowing down and he realizes that the short, gasping sounds are coming from his own mouth. For the several disturbingly long moments that it takes Tony to catch his breath, he manages to see the quick glance Bruce makes to his shaking hands and Steve's look at Bruce before the embarrassment settles in.

"Oh. My gosh!" Tony says a little too fast. Bruce's hand is an unmoving clamp around his elbow as he shakily gets to his feet. He tries to gather his bearings by brushing off his butt of excess dust (even though there wasn't any and Bruce and Steve knew that because Tony had robots clean his house for him).

"I didn't know you guys were coming over, you should have told me! I would have bought us all crumpets and a box of pizza." Tony raises his brow and points at Steve, "I hope you've had a crumpet since you've been de-capsicled, Rogers." Tony's heart is still racing, he doesn't know quite where to put his still shaking hands and he feels giddy with denial of what may or may not have just happened and the people who may or may not have witnessed it. Everything racing through Tony's mind are a whole lot of run on sentences and excuses for when one of them finally asks, because one of them is about to ask. He can see it in the mutual body language and Bruce's eyebrows. They're very telling, those eyebrows.

"Tony-" Bruce starts with a step towards him. It sends off all kinds of signals to his brain of  _no_ and _not too close._ He takes a step back, Bruce sees it, but Tony tries to disguise it as he keeps stepping back towards his liquor cabinet(s). _  
_

"You guys want a drink or something since you're here? Jarvis recommended to me this wine from Italy or France or somewhere and I'm telling you. It's blessed, to what I think, is the best thing either of those countries could have ever manufactured. I'll pour you each a glass." This time it's Steve's hand that grips his upper arm and flips him around from his countertop to face them both.

Tony instantly drops his gaze down to the floor while thinking of something to say. Bruce's face appears in his peripheral vision.

"Tony, look at me." Tony bites his lip and lets his arms hang awkwardly at his sides. At least his hands weren't shaking anymore. He can totally play this off. He plants his best shit eating grin on his face and picks his head up. He glances at Steve first, who is considering him with a look of such sympathy that he has to switch to Bruce.

"Yes, darling?" Bruce is frowning.

"What just happened?" Tony already has a story. Bless being a genius.

"I was downstairs and working on the suit, when old buddy here," He glances up at the cieling referring to Jarvis, "told me that I had gone like 86 hours without sleep. I mean, I've gone longer without it so I didn't really think it was a big deal. Between us three, I've gone 112 before." Tony shrugged, "I guess I'm getting old."

Bruce shakes his head sadly and Steve steps up this time.

"But there's no grease." Tony stares speechless for a moment, not understanding his point. "I've watched you work. If you'd been working for that long you'd be filthy. And you smell like soap." Tony blinks against the bristling he already feels on the back of his neck.

"And since when do you work shirtless?" Bruce says. He looks up at Tony with determination and when he sits down on the edge of the sofa not far away, Tony knows he's fucked.

"We're not morons, Tony. Stop lying to me," Tony's breath catches at Bruce changing from _we_ to _me_ so easily," and tell me what the hell just happened." Tony lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and his words jumble together.

"I can't really talk about it cause I'll freak out again." Steve's face scrunches as he works out every word Tony just said. Tony thinks they both already know what it is. How could they not? They both knew him better than he gave them credit for.

Steve is approaching him and Tony holds out his hand as a last line of defense. But Steve grabs his wrist and pulls him into a full on chest-to-chest hug. Steve is whispering apologies and goosebumps he knows Steve can see break out on his bare back. Tony tries to pull away but Steve doesn't let him. Not this time. And _fuck_ if that isn't all kinds of metaphorical and psychological that Tony is not nearly drunk enough to think about. Tony squeezes his eyes shut so Bruce won't see the tears start to well up in his eyes.

But shame washes over him when he feels them fall down his cheeks anyway. Steve holds him tighter into a kind of warm safety that Tony hasn't felt since he fell from the sky and Bruce stands and walks over to him. Tony lets him brush the back of his knuckles against Tony's facial hair and Bruce considers that a win already. 

"You're going to have to talk about it, Tony." His next words are barely audible, "You can't hide from it anymore."

And it spurs more emotions inside, and Tony knows his face looks like a truck hit it. He feels his body turn in on itself as he balls up to the ground and Steve follows. Bruce sits on the ground with him, regarding Tony. Because he's Tony. He has to throw up every wall of defense he can and when nothing is left, his body simply curls up. Like it's the only defense mechanism he has left. Bruce needs to hug Tony. 

So he does. Tony doesn't pull away and the three of them are a heap of limbs and unmanly emotions on the floor.

"You can't bury it. Not from us."

Tony openly cries. And cries. _And cries_. Steve is already crying silently. And Bruce closes his eyes against the irony of it all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I always pictured Tony to be in his head. I’m so attracted to characters that are developed, especially ones I think that are broken inside. Am I the only one who thinks Tony Stark is a broken man inside who doesn’t like people getting close? Of course that's not his only side, but this is focusing on the dark part.Ah well, this is how I feel.  
> I may or may not make a serious of one shots. We'll see.


End file.
